When the Red Red and Gold Gryffindors
by MidniteMarauder
Summary: [When the Red, Red and Gold Gryffindors Go Bob Bob Bobbing Along]. What really happened at the Olympic Bobsleigh competition in Innsbruck, Austria, 1976. MWPP


**Title:** When the Red, Red (and Gold) Gryffindors Go Bob, Bob Bobbing Along  
**Rating:** K+  
**Genre:** Crack Genfic of the Olympic and Marauder kind.  
**Summary:** What _really_ happened at the Olympic Bobsleigh competition in Innsbruck, Austria, 1976.

**Authors Notes:** The blame for this story lies with **xellas** and **nessaowen** for planting evil crack seeds. This is pure crackfic of the Marauder and Olympic kind.

I have no idea who the announcers were at the Olympic Bobsleigh competition for the ABC television broadcast - I couldn't find any details about it online. So I took some liberties. Okay. A _lot_ of liberties. (Though specific olympic details are accurate!) It's almost completely dialogue-only so you'll have to forgive my overuse of the announcers' names (who obviously appear without permission), though sports announcers have a tendency to call each other by name fairly frequently anyway.

* * *

"Good evening and welcome to ABC's continued coverage of the Twelfth Winter Olympics from Innsbruck, Austria. I'm Jim McKay, and today we have for you the Men's Four-Man Bobsleigh finals, for which the East German team is heavily favored for gold this year. We take you live now to the Bobsled Run at Igls, where Howard Cosell and Jim Lampley are standing by." 

"Thanks, Jim. This is Howard Cosell and with me, Jim Lampley, and it's a beautiful day here at Igls. The West German team, currently in first place, is assured of at least Bronze, but the two top ranked teams, Switzerland and East Germany, who are yet to make their runs, could dash the West Germans' hopes for Gold."

"That's right, Howard. East Germany is about to make their final run, and there they are, led by Germeshausen and Nehmer who have already won the Gold in the two-man Bobsleigh event earlier this week, finishing ahead of Switzerland and West Germany. Will the four-man results echo the two-man results? And there they go…"

"…and it's going to be close, Jim, as they come around the final turn of this course. A flawless run so far for this Swiss team. Can they beat the East German time of three-forty-forty-three? And as they cross the line… No! With an official combined time of three-forty-eighty-nine, they were less than half a second off the mark! So East Germany will again take Gold, Switzerland Silver and West Germany Bronze. That's telling it like—"

"Wait a minute, Howard. It looks like there's still one team left to compete. A second sleigh from… is that Great Britain? Does Great Britain even _have_ a second sleigh team?"

"Apparently, they do, because officials are waving them into place and resetting the time clock. Do we have any information on this team?"

"I'm looking through my papers now, and I can't find anything about them in my folder here. I have absolutely no recollection of their previous runs, or what their cumulative time and current place standing is either. Can we get a close-up on the camera?"

"They look young, Jim. Very young. And their sleigh is a bit… unusual in shape, I'd think. Boxy, not streamlined. Is is even regulation? Must be, since they're here and about to race. Very strange design for the British. Black with red and gold stripes and – is that a lion on the front?"

"It would appear so, Howard. Interesting crest on their uniforms as well, but I can't make out the design. Maybe they're Scottish. I think the lion motif is affiliated with Scotland."

"Look, Jim, there's something written across the side of the sled there – can you see it?"

"'Up to No Good'? What is that supposed to mean? I don't know about you, Howard, but it seems as if there's something very unusual going on here."

"This _is_ the Olympics, Jim. A place of hopes and dreams, and young athletes pushing themselves to their limits and beyond."

"You're right about that, Howard. So, as this unknown British sleigh gets ready to make their run – wait a minute. Where did this paper come from?"

"What paper is that, Jim?"

"I could have sworn it wasn't here a minute ago. It's… it's _parchment_. How… unusual."

"Nothing unusual about that, is there? We _are_ in Austria. They're very old-fashioned here. One of the pages must have slipped it into your folder when you weren't looking."

"Must have. But it would appear that this team is indeed from the UK. Says here that the driver is Potter, the brakeman is Black, and the two pushers are Lupin and Pettigrew."

"Never heard of them."

"Neither have I, Howard, and I've been covering the Bobsleigh events from the start. I hate to repeat myself, but this is very strange."

"Strange or not, there they go! Potter is in, followed closely by his teammates… Rather sloppy start there, Jim, and their time… not good. Not good at all."

"That's the slowest start I've ever seen in a Bobsleigh competition! How they expect to compete on an Olympic level—Holy shit!"

"Jim! We're _live_!"

"But! Christ! Look at them go! I've never seen anything like this in my life! Not even near the fast part of the track yet, and they must be pushing at least a hundred miles an hour! Look at their time! I swear – the runners on the sled don't even look like they're touching the track!"

"In the words of Phil Rizzuto, Holy Cow! You're seeing what we're seeing, folks, and I certainly can't believe what I'm seeing here! This Great Britain team is _flying_! Wait a minute! What was that?"

"Er, did you see that, too, Howard?"

"I don't know what I saw, Jim, but for a minute it looked like…"

"Must have been a trick of the camera. Wait! There it is again!"

"Jim, did those sled runners just turn into… _brooms_?"

"No. They didn't. They couldn't have, Howard. Impossible. Must be the altitude. Playing tricks. It's physically impossible…"

"And as the Great Britain sleigh crosses the finish line... Wait a minute! How the hell did they…?"

"Howard!"

"A run time of thirty-four seconds? Are you shitting me? Thirty-four seconds? What the hell is going on around here? They've just shattered every world record – hell! They've just broken the god-damned laws of physics and gravity!"

"Howard! We're live on the air, damn it!"

"I'm not even a personal fan of the sport of Bobsledding, but this is obviously history in the making, folks, and I'm telling it like it is! Hey! Where did all of these guys in black robes come from?"

"_Obliviate!_"

"…"

"Well, we got everyone in the crowd, sir. You think it worked on those Muggle camera contraptions as well?"

"Weasley said it would. He's the new Ministry expert on Muggle artifacts. If not, I expect we'll be hearing from the American and European Ministries shortly. Damned smart-arse kids! Get 'em back to Hogwarts before I decide to send 'em off to Azkaban for a year or ten. Dumbledore can deal with them."

"Yes, sir. You have to admit though…"

"Yes, Brody?"

"That was a rather daring prank for a bunch of fifteen-year-olds. Though their Charmwork on those brooms needs a bit of work."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear you say that, Brody."

"Yes, sir. I— I'll be going now."

The head of the Accidental Magic Reversal Department reached into his robes pocket and pulled out a cigar, lit it with his wand and surveyed the crowd as he puffed. His team had done an excellent job with damage control. All of the Muggles were dazed, glazed looks in every eye. Chaos averted once again.

He glanced over at the crowd of Obliviators, including young Brody, shepherding the four teenagers who were carrying their two brooms and the school trunk between them, and shook his head, chuckling.

"Clever bastards, indeed."


End file.
